


there's a reason you're holding me tight again

by loamvoza



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Seisen no Keifu | Fire Emblem: Genealogy of the Holy War
Genre: Gen, POV Second Person, hi let me introduce you to my church, semi-spoilers for a 20 year old game, whoops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-13
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-10-09 05:17:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17400743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loamvoza/pseuds/loamvoza
Summary: he hiccups and it takes you a minute to recognize that the prince is crying.he shakes and whimpers and you’re on your feet just in time to catch him when he falls forward.you’re confused.





	there's a reason you're holding me tight again

**Author's Note:**

> "one of these days i'll write something for fire emblem," i told myself  
> here i am
> 
> the way this is written (choppy sentences, weird grammar) is intentional, please don't roast me  
> this is 2nd person and jamke's perspective, enjoy

when he stumbles into your tent that night, you wager that he’s inebriated.  
it wouldn’t be the first time, but the way he staggers tonight is different.  
the usual delicate sway of his form when intoxicated is gone.

he hiccups and it takes you a minute to recognize that the prince is crying.  
he shakes and whimpers and you’re on your feet just in time to catch him when he falls forward.

you’re confused.  
the prince is a confident man.  
he is flirtatious. he is mischievous. he is reckless. he is strong.  
you have seen a tear, perhaps, at a fallen comrade  
(“but that’s war,” he tells you, and he plays a note on his flute, and he walks away)  
you have never seen this. you have never seen anything close to this.

your heartbeat pounds in your ears and your rational mind cannot make sense of the situation at hand.

you hold his quivering frame to yours and he is so, so small. you yourself are broad, the owner of a body shaped by years of hunting and physical labor. he is slight with the body of a mage, and crumbling into dust in your arms. for a split second you fear that the wind he so easily controls will sweep him away before your eyes.

with a nervous hand you brush a strand of green behind his ear, and with an equally nervous voice you ask him to explain himself.  
he’s fallen silent now save for the occasional hiccup and you like to think you’re helping. you can’t exactly be sure if you are, but you can provide heat and comfort. you like to think that all you have to give will do something in this situation.

he takes a minute to decide on his answer before he mumbles into your shoulder that he can’t, because he doesn’t know how.  
he believes he’s dying, he tells you. and he is scared.

blood rushes in your ears, and quite possibly your face. you can feel it go hot.  
you ask him what he means. you don’t show fear in your voice. (you never have, and thankfully, it’s finally useful.)  
he whispers that his mind is not his own and you don’t know how to respond.  
you whisper back that that doesn’t mean that he’s dying. it’s the only thing you can think of to say. you aren’t entirely sure if you’re correct, because his conclusion is the only logical one, and the only thing you can hold onto is logic.

you feel certain that naga is laughing at you, because he is the only light you have left in this world and she is taking him too. 

he tells you that this is the first thing he remembers happening today.  
you ask him about the battlefield -- the skirmish sir sigurd’s army has fought today and won -- and he suppresses a laugh.  
he sounds his usual again when he asks you “what battle?” and his normal tone is comforting and terrifying all in one.

he leans into you and hums and it’s clear that he’s trying to keep up his appearance.  
he is the prince of silesse and he refuses to let you see him in a further state of compromise. he is still teary-eyed, and wet-faced, and shaking, but he is trying so hard to regain his composure that it’d be endearing if it weren’t sad.

but you are the prince of verdane, and you know loss better than most, even if you don’t know exactly the loss of your own mind. you’re squeezing him tighter without realizing it and you want to apologize. you hear him chuckle and say that you’re crushing him, but he tells you not to stop, because he isn’t good at self care or anything but he thinks that he needs this right now.

and you oblige, because if naga plans on taking him, she’ll have to do so from your cold, dead hands.

**Author's Note:**

> if you made it this far i'm obligated to tell you that this is about forseti possessing lewyn a la loptyr to julius instead of resurrecting his corpse when he dies
> 
> i only made it to chapter 2 of fe4 so i'm sorry if there's some horrendous OOC going on here  
> though from what i can tell jamke doesn't really have a lot of characterization to begin with, so  
> i also wrote this in literally an hour and barely checked it over sooo
> 
> come talk to me about fe/feh i literally never shut up  
> @loamvoza on twitter


End file.
